But Sweetest Through a Dewy Veil
by PREttYPAIN
Summary: Her life among the dunes was blown from her grasp, forever twirling as the Haradrim themselves fought a losing war. The bittersweet chance to begin again with a fellow broken heart from the jungles of Far Harad cannot come at a better time. Perhaps the northern men were not as bad as they believed.,,


I honestly should not be starting this...but my imagination just kicked in. I love reading about Harad and it intrigues me that so little is explored in the books and in the Tolkien world so I played around with this idea in my head.

I have not read the books in quite awhile actually. So maybe I better dig them up to refresh my mind.

I own nothing of course but I think we all pretty much know that...

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_1._

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It was Sulaana who first told me of the Old One in more detail. Aside from the few whispers of times passed, such histories were taboo. In those whispers there was also talk of some in Sulaana's tribe who revered the Old One still. I had tried to ignore such things upon my first meeting with my brother's wife-to-be, a girl a few years older than I. But after her marriage to my brother, when she settled in and we grew closer, I realized how false such talk must have been. It did not stop my curiosity however, and Sulaana often indulged in my childish questions of the Old One.

We would lie in my tent on days too hot for anything else and she would speak of the time when our people sought help from this almost forgotten power. There was no pretense in her words for she treated me as an equal, not a child or the daughter of the Overlord. We would laugh freely as the sun passed across the sandy dunes we called home. And when my brother was away fighting, Sulaana slept in my tent and showed me her tattoos as we readied for sleep.

"Sulanna," I would whisper as the lanterns and candles cast shadows upon the colorful tent walls. "May I see your marriage tattoo once more?"

She would laugh and turn her palm towards me. Upon her delicate hand the dark red tattoo resembled a beaded bracelet that extended up her palm and wrapped around her middle finger. Her smile would be knowing and her eyes would sparkle in the dimness of the night. The marriage tattoo joined her birth, womanhood and pledge to the Eye on her smooth right hand.

"How I wish you could tattoo your life upon your hand, Israa." Her sigh would fill the room and her hands would reach for mine. "I know it is not the way of this tribe, but it would bring me happiness to know I would not be alone in my markings. I often feel different among your people."

I tried to study her face in the growing darkness, for the candles had started to blow out one by one. Her large sloping eyes were gentle but I could see she missed her tribe people. "They are your people now as well. You are part of us."

"Yes, well." And she had given me a secretive grin, one that made me pounce on her and ask what she was keeping. She had giggled until finally I sulked among my cushions. With a well tossed pillow at her face, she relented."I am truly glad I am part of your clan and tribe. Your brother is very kind and handsome."

I tried to hide my disappointment of this statement, for I had been expecting some great secret. "So you love Adhen?"

She had nodded shyly.

"I cannot imagine spending my whole life with a stranger. But I suppose you have been lucky to know Adhen before your marriage."

Sulaana mulled over that. "That is true, Israa. Many high born girls are placed into marriages for alliances and wealth. But I truly care for your brother. And besides, he is very good at kissing."

"I do not wish to hear such things of my brother!" I had shrieked and covered my ears as she laughed.

And when the last candle had been blown out we would drift off to sleep, dreams of the desert wind blowing our future towards us. In my dreams I fed the baby _Mûmakil_ that were kept in the large pens on the outer reaches of our settlement. These creatures would grow to be fierce warriors, and we admired them greatly. Sulaana was also a lover of these creatures, for her tribe did not have a large number as we did. We often shared many things together and it was through her that I learned many things that I should have learned from my mother, who had died when I was but a child at her skirts.

That was how Sulaana became the favorite of my brothers' wives.

Alas, when morning came and along with it my father, I would beam up at his tall figure as he carried some new treasure from his travels. I had always been the pampered child, but my brothers did not despise me for it. I had believed them to be kind and loving, for who could not envy a girl-child who was given everything her naive heart could desire? I was very blind to believe that was their reason for lack of envy. It had never occurred to me that they knew those innocent, childish days of mine could not last long.

As my sixteenth year approached, my father bade me hide my face behind a beautiful sheer veil when I walked among our people. If I wished to play with the newborn m_ûmakil_ in their pens, I had to wait for my newly appointed lady servants and slaves. They clucked at me to cover my pretty skirts and tunic with a wrap for I was a _Rani_ and no man was worthy of gazing too long at my figure. I did not question any of our ways, for though I had no mother to teach me, my father still brought trinkets and pets when he returned from his trading. Though I no longer had the little freedoms of my childhood, I was still fortunate to be loved and cared for.

I did not imagine that it was all to change.

The winter I was to turn sixteen there was a celebration for the victory our people had dealt the Northern men who dared defy the Eye. My father had recently returned with my eldest brother Ibnet from the war and a great feast had been planned. The morning of the feast I had been joined by my sister-in-laws to finish the garlands we would wear in our hair. They were each different in the jewels and flowers that embellished the silver circlets. We sat on my cushioned floors, the morning air crisp as we focused on our task.

"Do you think you shall be happy in the East Lowland Tribe?" My brother's wife Rhanisi had asked me as we continued threading the desert flowers into our circlets. She was very skilled and her eyes were on me as her fingers worked.

The question had confused me and I could not comprehend what she was referring to. The East Lowland Tribe was miles away from us, though they traveled the dunes in the cooler season when they could trade with us. For the most part they were not nomads like us and I could see no reason why we would visit them.

I looked to Sulaana for help, but she had been looking at her headband in earnest, her brow furrowed. And so I looked to my brother's wife and asked what she had meant. This innocent inquiry had received odd looks, and Rhanisi hesitated before she answered.

"Why, my dear Rani you truly do not know of your own future?"

"My future?"

"Your father surely has revealed his intentions for your marriage."

I remember the panic I had felt as they all sat in silence at her words. My face had become numb though I could feel the blood pounding in my ears. It was not a thing I had imagined hearing from these women. A marriage was discussed between the head of the clan and the daughter. Why had my father not told me?

"Where-where have you heard such a thing?" I whispered, catching Sulaana's worried eyes. "You knew as well?"

Her small nod was followed by my gasp. "I'm sorry, Israa! Your brother forbade me to tell you." Her eyes dropped to her hands, fixing upon her marriage tattoo. She flexed her fingers and I watched as the beads danced.

"It is surprising your father has not told you." Rhanisi murmured. "Now I have broken my word to Ibnet for he instructed silence on my part as well. But I was so certain the Overlord would tell you these few weeks before the wedding."

Her words had sent me into a heap on the floor, clutching my flowered headdress to my chest. Sulaana rushed to my side, begging me to remain calm. But she could not comfort me from the shock. Kumel's new wife named Abenni knelt next to me, offering encouraging words. Rhanisi had soon followed her lead.

"Oh Israa, truly it is not the end of everything. You knew this would come eventually." Abenni held my hand.

"The East Lowland Tribe is known for their beautiful art and you shall be close to the Green City. Besides, I have seen Ab-Sahrad and he is very strong and wealthy." Rhanisi tried to comfort me, but despite the wisdom that came with her older years I could not bring myself to believe this.

For how could I sign my life away so easily to a man I had never before see? Indeed the way of our people was not so harsh as to give me away so easily. The hollow part in my heart was aching at my father's decision to offer my hand without my consent or knowledge.

"Ab-Sahrad!" I cried. "Is that the name of the man I am to be sold to?"

"Dear_ Rani_, honestly! You are forming an alliance with a great tribe." Rhanisi took my headdress from my hands and placed it upon my head, stroking the dark waves from my face. "You shall be a wealthy Overlord's wife, a woman to be admired, with more wealth than you have here."

"But I am to leave." My eyes had stung with heavy tears. "I am to live amongst strangers for the rest of my life."

Sulaana had taken me into her arms then, her sweet perfume and warmth soothing my tears slightly. She was gentle as the small bump that was her belly nudged me, for she was with child now. "Come now, Israa. I know more than any of us here what it is like to leave one's tribe. It is true that I cared for your brother before our marriage but you shall learn to love Ab-Sahrad."

"What if he is cruel?" I cried against her shoulder, ignoring all pride for the sake of being coddled. The thought of becoming a wife, of leaving my home and family frightened me more than anything I could imagine. My child's heart was breaking.

"Sweet Israa," Sulaana had begun stroking my hair. "I too have seen this Overlord. He is known for being just and fair. Your father would not agree to marry you to a cruel man."

They all had agreed, nodding in encouragement and speaking delicately of the beautiful wedding I would have. My gown would be the deep purple color of a bride, with golden trim to signify our clan. My mother's jewels would be draped from my ears, neck, wrists and ankles. I would be fitted with a new stud in my right nostril, for I was to be a married woman.

They spoke until midnight of the honors I would receive, of the great alliance we would make with the East Lowland Tribe and my duty to the Eye. But I did not listen to their words as they blessed me with hopes of a lucky wedding. Rhanisi prayed for my future husband's family to be kind, assuring me all would be well. Even Abenni, who I did not know very well prayed for my health.

Sulaana had only taken my hand and kissed it. "Now you shall have markings as well. They will come off after many weeks, but they shall be yours to bear well."

I thought of the wedding markings the shaman of our tribe would paint upon my body, a guide for my husband our traditions told us. The idea would make any bride blush, but I had felt only despair. Sulaana must have seen the tears I was holding back for she quieted and pulled away, her eyes sad. The happiness she had wished for me in my tent not long before had vanished, but her wish for me to be a mother seemed inevitable.

And so my father had spoken to me the next day and my brothers the day after. I kept silent, nodding when I was needed to. My father seemed to understand my feelings for he did not stop by my tent many days after. Throughout my tribe I was treated differently. When I went out with my servants and slaves, walking throughout our settlement, our people would stop and bless me. Women would wish me sons, men would wish me loyalty to my husband and children would gather to gawk at their princess who was to marry Ab-Sahrad, the Mumak of the Lands.

It was during these weeks that I learned of my husband, the strong warrior and killer of the pale Northerners. The women assured me of his manners as my brothers recounted battle tales of his glory. My father would only watch me with silent eyes.

It was also during these weeks that my father was beckoned to the fighting, taking my youngest brother Kumel with him. Ibnet was to take the mantle of Overlord in father's stead and Adhen was needed to train the young boys to be soldiers for next season when the Eye required them. I was to be married without my father and brother present.

Our people protested this arrangement, for a bride to marry without her living father's presence was considered unlucky. My brother considered it nonsense, for times were difficult in the face of the fighting in the northern lands. My marriage would bring wealth to our tribe for Ab-Sahrad had promised my brother many _Mûmakil_ and goods for our people. The marriage would not wait for better days.

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The day my betrothed arrived at our settlement was a much celebrated event. His tribe had arrived with their magnificent horses and painted and _Mûmakil_ dressed in bright colors. The symbol of their tribe was painted upon every member, from the smallest babe to the oldest shaman. I was huddled with Sulaana in our litter carried by slaves, gazing out from the sheer curtain that shielded us from the sun and prying eyes. Our tribe had come out to meet the Overlord and his people, my brother Ibnet riding his favorite black stallion.

"I see him!" Sulaana had almost squealed in my ear, her round belly bumping me.

"Sulaana," I whined. "The child in your belly is growing fast, what if he decides to come out now?"

She snickered at me, poking me in the side with her finger. "Oh hush, Israa."

"But truly, is he there upon that golden mare?" I squinted through the fabric at the man speaking with my brother. "Wearing all white?"

Indeed it had been Ab-Sahrad, the man I was to marry in the next few days. I could see from the distance that he was tall and strongly built, his posture rigid and perfectly straight. His face was covered like a true warrior and I gasped when his head turned our way. I shrunk behind Sulaana as if he could see me, and she merely laughed in her light, trilling way. But I could feel my heart leap from my chest at the thought that perhaps he could really see me.

He did see me that same day, but it was not out in the desert sun. My brother had arranged a meeting for us within his tent, and Sulaana had spent hours readying me for this first meeting. She wound my hair into a tight bun upon my head, leaving a few waves framing my face. She did not set any jewels upon my skin, but my green skirts glittered and my bodice was tight across my breasts, pushing them up so that I believed I would faint from lack of breath. She placed my head covering gently upon my head, securing it with shining pins and set my sheer veil in place. I was prepared to face my future.

He stood in my brother's tent with his strong back facing me, his figure already seeming imposing from the distance between us. My brother announced my name and I stepped forward just as Ab-Sahrad turned to face me. His face was uncovered, the cloth still hanging on the side of his face with some coal black curls sticking out from his head wrappings. He offered me a bow, though his eyes remained distant and in my heart there was a sad twinge at this first impression. I remembered my place as well and sank to the ground on one knee, my eyes resting on the floor until he approached and took my hands in his to pull me up.

"Israa Sadeen Hada Qeyir," He had begun with my name a cold, formality on his lips. "It is an honor."

He had a strong face, with the blackest eyes I had ever seen and golden skin. He looked to be a few years older than Adhen and he was tall against my small frame. I realized with a start that I barely reached his shoulders. I was lead to sit upon the cushioned stools with my brother while Ab-Sahrad sat across from us. I do not remember much of that night, but I remember feeling as if I were in a dream I could not wake from. My mind began to wander, though my smiles were in place as the men discussed many things I had no business in. The last thing I recalled was the kiss Ab-Sahrad had laid upon my right hand, where I would join with his for our ceremony. I ran back to my tent after that, my servants struggling to keep up.

The next day riders returned from the north with news of my brother's death. They also brought the cold body of my father upon their horses.

I was the first to greet them when I heard the familiar death horns of our warriors, the tune of a fallen man played through the chilly air that evening, and I sprinted forward from the baby _Mûmakil_ den I had been sitting in. My servants rushed after me, but were overtaken by others. I had the energy of many restless days stored in my young body however and a dreadful knot in my stomach. My legs carried me to edge of the settlement, to the riders who stopped upon seeing me. My veil had managed to stay in place, but my head covering had blown free in the wind, the bright orange cloth quickly buried underneath the unforgiving sand.

"Good_ Rina_," the general warrior greeted, his grim eyes the only thing showing. "The Overlord is needed."

But I was struck upon my feet, dropping to the sand as tears streamed down my face. For I had already seen the body behind his horse, the cloth of royalty sticking out from the armor, stained with blood. The wind whipped my hair into a whirl of darkness, and all I could see were the figures standing before me like the spirits of death. A hand soon had guided me to my feet, and I was being pressed into someone's side, arms wrapping around me. Whispers and shouts were all around but I closed my eyes and wept, knowing that my father was gone.

It wasn't until I had slept many hours that I was told my brother Kumel was killed in battle, his body unable to be returned. I shed more tears, but they were silent and eventually my eyes were dried of water. The wails of Abenni coming from the tent she had once shared with my brother kept me up all night, and in my own tent I traced the map of our lands with trembling fingers. The borders of the northern lands were jagged and various inscriptions marked major battles. It was a map I had once stolen from Kumel when I was younger and kept in the dark on such matters. He had groused and complained for days about losing it, but when he had visited my tent one afternoon the map had been lying in plain sight. His eyes scanned over its place on my table but he did not say anything. It was then I knew this was his small gift to me. He could not tell me of the happenings in the North, but at least he had given me that.

The night we all grieved their deaths was when I crumbled it and threw it into the fire.

The funeral for my father and brother was quiet and we all dressed somberly. No jewels were permitted and I wore my thickest veil to hide my face. Sulaana gripped my arm tightly, her eyes wet and red-rimmed. Adhen stood beside her, his face stony. Our new Overlord stood at the grave of our father and brother, his jaw set. Abenni sat covered in sand and the bones of a _mumak_, ready to kiss my brother's grave. The pile of bones was always needed these days, for many of our warriors returned dead. The gatherers had begun collecting them for free among the traders for many could no longer afford them at their sons or fathers' funerals. But we were given the best, the ones guaranteed to bring an honorable death.

Ibnet told us of the great loyalty my father and brother had displayed for the Eye and of unfaltering glory in which they perished for the Great Lord. They would bring us closer to freedom and justice he had said proudly as the shaman stood to lead us in prayer.

It was as the shaman had begun the death chant to send our men to whatever lie beyond, that I had suddenly remembered the stories Sulaana had told me of the Old One and the place we had once gone when we left these lands. I could see her fist clenched tightly and the Eye on her thumb twitched with her movements.

There was a fury in my heart at that Eye, the one great lord we were taught to serve and obey. My father and brother had died for that cold, unfeeling thing and many others yet. But we were still stuck in our desert lands, the freedom our people had once enjoyed out of our grasp while we pledged to a lord who called forth our men to die. The bones had been littered on their graves and I stood before my people, gazing out from behind my veil at the drawn faces of those who wore the darkness of him painted on their skin.

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Now off to reread!


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